What's it going to be?
by JustCallMeLiz
Summary: My take on what could have happened when House joined his fellows at the end of halfwit (3x15) Short story
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This one-shot takes place at the end of Halfwit (3x15) and is basically my take on what could have happened in there. I've always wanted the team to have a serious, heart to heart conversation with House. It makes it rather difficult not to be OOC since it never really happened on the show, but I tried Happy Reading!

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First, it must have been the bright lights shining in the pub that caught his eye, in contrast tow the dull evening twilight outside. Then, his eyes must have wandered, he must have looked inside and seen something; he suddenly stopped walking and stood still, watching.

A lot of people were there that evening, drinking beers and catching up with friends. Some were playing a game of billiards while others were sitting at tables, chatting and laughing loudly. Waitresses bustled about, taking orders. The barman, as he methodically dried off glasses with a towel that he then slung over his shoulder, was joking with some customers. A group of middle-aged men were staring at a small screen that was broadcasting a horse race, cheering.

One would think it was a typical evening, however, in a discreet corner, Gregory House's three employees, who were, just like everyone else, having a nice time, occupied a vintage circular booth with red leather seats. They each had a beer and were intently listening to Chase. They then all burst into laughter, Cameron even slightly doubling over. Foreman tilted his head and smiled at his colleague, looking unusually amused. He then went on talking.

House, from outside, seemed hesitant to join them. He watched them a little longer, seemingly weighing his options. Wilson's earlier speech must have had an effect on him because, after fidgeting a little while with his cane, he slowly made his way towards the door.

Cameron was talking to Chase about her worst med school stories when she noticed he wasn't quite listening and was looking at something. His expression was a mix of anger and surprise; his mouth contorted into a strange shape.

"House…" the word hung in the air.

The two others immediately looked in the same direction to see their boss standing in front of them, leaning on his cane.

"Move over" he said to Cameron before sitting beside her, ignoring the look she gave him. In fact, he didn't look at any of them. Instead, he looked at his hands, and then motioned to a waitress. "I'd like a scotch" he said. "I sure am going to need it with these feisty little people here." She gave him a curt nod and went off. House rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh. A few seconds passed, although it seemed more like a few minutes to the group.

"What are you doing here House?" Foreman finally asked in a tone near disgust.

"I thought it would be fun to spend an evening with you guys." He smiled sheepishly. They didn't seem very impressed. "You know, bonding and all…" he continued. "I thought-

"Why did you do that?" Cameron cut him off sharply and looked at him straight in the eyes. "Just to get high right?" The words stung like alcohol on a fresh wound.

He didn't answer. Luckily, at that moment the waitress came back with his scotch. He downed it all in one go and then started fiddling with the glass, tilting it back and forth.

"Why House?" she repeated

"Because I thought it would be a fun experience. I was feeling an imbalance in my feng shui. Boston seemed like-"

"Cut the crap already!" It was now Chase's turn to look at him wildly. "Are you here just to mess with us some more? If so, you can just leave right now. We're not interested in any of your games House."

"Christ Wilson I hate you..." he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. He breathed in deeply. "Fine." he said, raising his head and looking at them. "I guess I owe you guys an apology" he started. "It was… ridiculously… stupid of me…" he paused. The wheels suddenly seemed to be turning in his brain and his expression slowly changed, becoming more determined. He looked up again, tilted his head ever so slightly and smirked. " God can Wilson play mind games on me" he mused, "I had my reasons to do what I did- reasons you wouldn't understand. You shouldn't have got involved. It would have all been fine if you had known nothing about this and I wouldn't even be here now, talking about this with you."

"We got involved because we care bout you House! You might not think so but we all do. If you could just be honest with us and at least tell us why…" Chase said, looking at his boss. Then, House took out the all too familiar orange bottle and shook out a Vicodin. As the pill rattled and fell onto his hand, Chase seemed to have had a revelation of his own. "It's the pills, isn't it?" he asked, already knowing the answer, the look on House's face only serving as further proof that he had just understood. "I mean, not the pills… but the leg?" It was more of a statement than a question but again, Chase knew by looking at him that he had hit the right spot, a sore spot.

They all fell silent. Foreman and Cameron exchanged looks. House ordered two more glasses of scotch ("I was right, I really need it" he said). Chase was pensive. House then drank his scotches and started passively aggressively rubbing the subject of the conversation. The tension between them was palpable.

"I guess I have two choices here…" House said finally, the alcohol working its magic. "I can either walk out of here and we never talk about this evening again…" he paused; the three others waited expectantly "Or, I can tell you guys some of what you want to know and then never talk about this evening again…" He looked straight at them "So, what's it going to be?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So the mood did strike! Here's another chapter :-) Hopefully, the characters aren't too OOC but, as I said in the first chapter, it's a strange and unusual situation. Happy Reading!

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The three younger doctors exchanged a few looks, debating the question. Foreman made heavy use of his brows -they moved fiercely up and down- to convince the others. He also used the tilting of the head technique; his eyes looked grave. Chase frowned at him, seemingly not understanding a thing.

"We've got to seize this opportunity!" Foreman quickly whispered to him in a strangled voice, "It might be the only one we'll ever get!"

"Can we ask you anything?" asked Cameron, intrigued

"I'm already starting to regret this…" House mumbled as he shut his eyes for a few seconds and sighed "Let's set up a few rules for this new "torture House with personal questions" game that you all seem so excited about. I guess-"

"You put us through so much crap and you're still going to "set rules" for us? I think we deserve to ask whatever we want" Foreman interjected, raising his characteristic brow to add to his seriousness.

"I'll be off then" House stood up to leave but, as he put his hand on his cane, Cameron softly held him back, although the look she gave him was steely

"Don't." She said simply "Just don't."

House seemed a little startled. He seemed to want to retort, opened his mouth, but then – most probably thanks to Wilson – closed it shut again. They stayed like that for just a moment, him standing, his hand on the handle of his cane, while she held his forearm, both gazing at the other, sharing silent words. Cameron must have won the battle; House slowly sat down again, still looking at her thoughtfully. She was the one who broke away.

"Fine" he said slowly, watching her "You can ask whatever you want." He didn't sound defeated as he gave in to them, although his voice wasn't quite as sarcastic as before. Maybe he thought Foreman was right, or maybe Wilson had actually knocked some sense into him. Whatever the reason, he had just given them the permission they were longing for.

However, instead of immediately jabbering out questions, the three fellows were silent. The fact that this was actually happening must have utterly stunned them. They definitely weren't used to this kind of situation, of having some kind of advantage, some kind of new power over the man who always berated them. The cheering of the middle-aged men suddenly went up a notch, their rough voices filling up the whole bar. Their horse must have won. But at the booth, time stood still and the air was heavy. House waited patiently, but he wouldn't wait forever.

"Why would you do something like that?" Cameron started, in a tone devoid of any pity, voicing the question they were all wanting to ask, although they already knew the answer. They just needed to hear it from him.

"I…" House stopped, froze. The answer might have been simple but it certainly wasn't easy. In fact, it seemed impossible to him at the moment. "Truth is," he started again, not daring to meet their eyes "the answer is simple, as simple as one word in fact, as simple as diagnosing a cold…" He didn't seem to know where he was going with what he was saying, which was so unlike him. "Imagine a house" he paused and shook his head at the irony. "A lovely big house that is serving its purpose well. A guy and his girlfriend are living in it, and they love it. But one day, they notice a crack -not a very big one- in one of its walls. They call in a guy who checks on it and says it's fine; he adds a superficial layer of material on the crack. So, great, everything's fine. No need to worry. But then, the crack gets bigger. Again, another guy says it's fine, does the same thing as the previous idiot. The couple trusts the professionals of course, although it does seriously seem a bit strange to them. Then, sometime later, the wall starts to rot, air goes through it. This time the professionals actually realize they've missed a huge breakage in the wall, one that's getting worse fast. They feel sorry about it, but feeling sorry doesn't repair walls. And so it gets worse. They have to act fast now. Can't afford to waste anymore time… They suggest taking it down and building a totally new one, which would work great, they say. The boyfriend wants to keep the wall. He wants to repair it, because he loves the wall, and he knows how to build. They tell him it's very risky, but he doesn't care, it's his wall. It has huge emotional value. It's his choice, anyway. So he goes off to get the materials to repair it, says it will take a while for him to find everything he needs. And so he goes off. His girlfriend, meanwhile, discusses other possibilities with the professionals. She thinks her boyfriend is being crazy. The wall could break later, she says, it might not work. They totally agree with her and suggest doing it halfway." House smiled bitterly "So, while the boyfriend's away, she asks them to tear out the piece of the wall that's broken and do their best to repair it that way. And so they do. When the boyfriend comes back, he's devastated, of course. He can't believe it. It was his wall, and it was his choice. The wall is now nothing like its former self. It can hardly hold the house up anymore and so he has to add a couple of pillars. Some time passes, the boyfriend tries his best to improve it, to reinforce it, but what can you do with a wall that's half broken? They did it too late. They didn't do what he asked. His girlfriend. He can't forgive her. He feels… betrayed. And he just can't take it. She can't take the fact that he can't take it and thinks he's being more of an ass than before. So she leaves out of frustration, even though she still loves him. And the guy finds himself all alone with a broken House… He keeps trying to repair it, hopes that somehow he can. But nothing ever works. Every attempt is met with terrible results that just push him further into his miserable hole. Nowadays he doesn't let himself hope because when he does, his hope just gets thrown back at his face. People think he's bitter. He thinks they're idiots. Thing is, people don't know what having a whole the size of a fist in their thigh is like. It hurts. That's why I did it. Because it hurts."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I feel bad posting such a short chapter but I believe it's all that's needed to finish the story. Hope you enjoy it!

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House had been looking away from the others while he had talked, so he didn't see the utter look of astonishment on their faces. Instead, he was gazing at the bar, where a haggard-looking man sat alone. There were many empty glasses in front of him but he anyway ordered another. Nothing seemed to matter to him His expression was empty; his eyes were cast downwards. When his next drink was served to him, he grabbed it and held on to it strongly with both his hands, as if it were of huge value, but didn't drink. Instead, his gaze wandered about the room, first falling longingly on a young couple happily sharing a bottle of wine, then on the group of middle-aged men who were merrily enjoying their evening together, and finally on House, who held his gaze, intrigued. The man had piercingly blue eyes that would have been striking if they weren't so full of deep, raw sorrow. His whole face looked pinched and pale with sadness and pain. In his hand was an unlit cigarette that he was swirling with the finesse only the worst of addicts had. He held House's gaze for a moment more, reeking of misery, before returning to his drink, which he drank in one long uninterrupted streak and followed with a chuckle of satisfaction.

It was now dark outside, as if the world was finally revealing its deepest secrets and pains. There was no bright moon that night, just as there were no clouds. The sky was empty except for a few sparse faint stars that started revealing themselves evenly throughout the sea of ivory black.

The three employees seemed clueless as to what to say as they silently exchanged glances with questioning eyes. Foreman and Chase then started whispering amongst themselves, leaving Cameron to her own thoughts, as she was too far away to hear, sitting on the other side of the booth, closer to House, who still wouldn't look at any of them. His face didn't show any emotion but his brooding eyes revealed anger with a hint of regret.

"I'm sorry House." Cameron said suddenly, breaking the icy silence and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry about what happened." The two other fellows stopped talking and stared at her with baffled looks, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

House, surprising them all, didn't pull back from her touch. Instead, he awkwardly turned to her and looked at her in the eye, unsure of what to do. He started drumming his fingers on the table, in full thought, and glanced back at the man sitting at the bar, who was now mindlessly staring at his amber drink, before returning his gaze to her. _Start small House. Take a chance._

"You shouldn't be." He said calmly, before smiling ever so slightly "but thanks."


End file.
